I Wondered About The Half-life Of Regret.

But Family Life Sometimes Had A Vortex, Like Weather. It Could Be Like A Tornado In A Quiet Zigzag: Get Close Enough And You Might See Within It A Spinning Eighteen-wheeler And A Woman.

It Was Not Miserable - Often I Did Not Miss Her At All. But There Was Sometimes A Quick, Sinking Ache When I Walked In The Door And Saw She Was Not There. Twice, However, I'd Felt The Same Sinking Feeling When She Was.

What Little Reality Television I've Seen Seems To Be About Economic Desperation. Like The Marathon Dancing Of The Great Depression, Which Should Give Us Pause. People Willing To Eat Flies And Worms For A Sum That Is Less Than The Weekly Paycheck Of The Show's Producer. I Haven't Seen "reality Television" That Is Other Than This Kind Of Painful, Sadistic Exploitation Of Fit Young People Looking For Agents.

This Lunge At Moral Fastidiousness Was Something She'd Noticed A Lot In People Around Here. They Were Not Good People. They Were Not Kind. But They Recycled Their Newspapers!

I Do Have People In Mind When I Write. I Don't Know Precisely Who They Are, However, Or How Many Of Them There Are.